


Stray Cats

by NinetyNineGhosts



Category: Mr. Robot (TV), Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Drug Use, Hacking, M/M, Post Until Dawn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-04-26 04:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4990846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinetyNineGhosts/pseuds/NinetyNineGhosts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The street is crawling with them. And I don't just mean actual stray cats. Everyone here's lost, aren't they? If you want to get really deep, it'd be fucking easy to see that everyone on this street (or even in the city) is like a stray cat in one way or another. Lost. Homeless. Abandoned. Maybe there's a lucky few who've never felt that way, but let's be real.</p>
<p>This is humanity.</p>
<p>We're all alone.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>A fic in which Cristopher Edward Ashpin moves to New York a few months after a shocking event changes his life. Makes sense his apartment neighbor would be the ever-enigmatic Elliot Alderson. I suck at summaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intensity

"Christopher, Chris - Can I call you Chris?"

 

"..."

 

The blonde man said nothing, his weary eyes pointed to the floor. Chris's eyes were something people were beginning to notice and remember. Ever since the incident, they gained a shocking intensity. Whatever Christopher Ashpin had really seen on that mountain, there was absolutely no way he'd forget about it. They were locked in tight, sealed behind those intense, knowing eyes. The irises, once a beautiful vibrant bright green, seemed almost white in this lighting. His pupils were small but brightly illuminated, illustrating a degree of fear and shock. The interviewer refused to make eye contact with the survivor, who only stared a bit forlornly at the ground. She wondered if he eard or comprehended what she had just asked him.

 

"Well, Mr. Ashpin." She cleared her throat. "I'm going to ask you some more questions about that night. Would you be okay with that?"

 

Christopher only glanced at her, his bright eyes causing shivers to run down her spine. He just as quickly glanced back down before breathing heavily and shifting in his seat uncomfortably. 

 

"What - What more do you want to know?" He asked, frowning a bit as he shook his head slightly. "I've told you people everything. There's -"

 

"Yes, the story about the....'Wendigos'." The interviewer - Her name tag read 'Alsine Sabaya' - made quotation marks with her fingers. Chris didn't like this woman. "An interesting tale, but...I don't think you've been telling us everything you could be telling us, right? And we can't properly help you until you tell us everything."

 

"Why don't  _you_ tell me something here and tell me where the others are." Alsine Sabaya sighs a little too dramatically. They'd told him about his friends, the bodies they'd found and the one they hadn't. Samantha Grace was good and alive - Needed a hearing aid in one ear, though. Jessica Melbourne and Matthew Lucas refused to leave each other's sides for hardly anything - It was tough getting individual interviews. They had found a couple of charred and disfigured bodies in the wreckage of the lodge - One missing two of its fingers was later identified as Mike Munroe. One in the basement with a bullet in its head was confirmed to be Emily Zhang. The head of Ashley McGull had been found just yesterday when police went looking in the mines for survivors.

Joshua Washington was nowhere to be found.

 

"We've told you what happened -" She begun to inform Chris, but she found herself being cut off.

 

"No, no. I - I know Ash and - and Josh. I know they're alive. They've gotta be." The blonde hugged himself a bit and rocked in his seat. Alsine Sabaya raised an eyebrow. Chris hadn't been informed of Ashley's confirmed death? Well. She recognized it as probably for the better, especially upon seeing the boy's current state.

 

"...We're still searching." She assured Chris, although she would not specify for whom. This seemed to both relax and unnerve the teen, as if he didn't know what to feel. His wide, intense eyes hungrily darted around the room again as he inhaled sharply and swayed his head to the side for a moment before responding to his interviewer.

 

"Okay. Okay....What do you want, then?"

 

"Just tell me what you know happened that night."

 

Chris sighed softly and rocked a bit more, hid head sinking the slightest bit back into the hood of his coat. He had refused to take it off since the incident.

 

"I...It was a prank. He never meant for any of this."

 

"You mean Joshua?"

 

"He just...He's sick. He needs help."

 

"Looking at his medical records, it seems I have no choice but to agree."

 

"When you find him, you need to get him help."

 

"I'll see what we can do."

 

"Thank you."

 

Christopher and Alsine sat in an awkward silence for some time, Alsine checking papers and Chris shifting in his seat more.

 

"Who do you believe attacked you and your friends, Chris?"

 

The glasses-clad teen's bright eyes widened a bit and stared at the interviewer, saying nothing for the longest time.

 

"I-I don't know."


	2. Lackluster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His eyes are dull and vacant as they stare at the TV in the corner. Usually it played sports. This was strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the kudos! This chapter focuses on Elliot, and this chapter along with the one before is meant to be a prelude of sort before we get into the real plot. Enjoy, leave kudos & comments, and yeah!

"In other news, an update on the Blackwood Pines situation."

 

Elliot's intense eyes glanced towards the screen. His eyes were wide, but lacked real brightness. The orbs made up for that, however, with a vacant or even confused stare that always seemed plastered into Elliot's sockets. Usually the TV in this coffee shop played sports. This was new. This was strange.

 

"The two bodies found in the wreckage of the Washington Lodge have been confirmed to be that of 19-year-olds Michael Munroe and Emily Zhang. Authorities are still searching for 18-year-old Ashley McGull and 20-year-old Joshua Washington, the latter of which was confirmed by the survivors as off of his medication when the events on the mountain took place."

 

On the screen flashed pictures of the people the anchor named. Elliot assumed the first was a school picture, one of the Michael Munroe figure. Then came Emily Zhang, then Ashley McGull. Then came one of the man the anchor had claimed was off his meds - Did that have something important to do with this case? It probably would've been better to look up more of the Blackwood Pines stuff before this. The man, Joshua Washington, looked familiar. It took Elliot a bit of time to realize the reason the man looked so familiar was because he remembered seeing that face somewhere else. 

In the mirror.

 

Elliot frowned at this. The picture was gone now, the anchor saying more about the case. Maybe he was just imagining things. Wouldn't be the first time. There was no way this Washington dude and him could've looked the same - Yeah, he was just imagining things. Weird. 

 

"The four survivors have been hospitalized until further notice. The following clips are footage of some of the interviews conducted."

 

Why was he so intrigued? Stuff like this happened all the time. Elliot tapped his finger on the table a bit as the clips rolled.

 

"Christopher Ashpin?" There was a blonde man on the TV now - With a nasty bruise on his forehead that made Elliot's head hurt. Ugh. This man - Christopher Ashpin - wore a pair of glasses on his large and beakish nose. He seemed tired and worried, fidgeting around. The most noticeable feature, however, the feature that struck Elliot the most and would not leave him, were Christopher's eyes. Bright and intense, as if some horrible secret were locked away inside of them and he wanted more than anything to reveal it but somehow couldn't. 

 

"Yeah?" Christopher's voice was raspy and broken, he sounded as if he'd been crying or shouting before this. 

 

"So, you claim that 'Wendigos' attacked you and your friends."

 

"....Yes." Elliot raised an eyebrow in confusion. Wendigos? Those were a Native American thing, weren't they? Cannibal monsters? They didn't exist. The blonde man continued after a long pause. "They....They got Mike. They killed the old man, too. I - I almost died."

 

"The old man?"

 

"Yeah - The one who helped us." This Christopher man wasn't doing a good job elaborating. "He...knew about them. The Wendigo things. And...Josh was in the shed. And I had to get him, I didn't want him to get hurt - He's my best friend - and the man went out with me and -" He stopped. The interviewer cleared her throat.

 

"And what, Chris?"

 

"His head - The thing sliced it clean off." The blonde choked out, his eyes widening a bit as he remembered. Elliot felt bad for the guy - Watching someone get beheaded would leave a mark or two on your mental state.

 

"So he was decapitated in front of you?"

 

"Yes."

 

"I see." The interviewer had a condescending tone that Elliot despised. "And you say these things also killed Mike?"  
  


 

"Sam told me so."

 

"Interesting. Now, can I ask if these things also killed Emily Zhang?"

 

Chris froze up, eyes widening. He shook his head gently, rocking in his seat a bit. 

 

"No, no no. No, they didn't... No." His tone was downright pitiful. 

 

"What killed her, then?"

 

"I...." The blonde shook his head more viciously, grabbing at his hair with one hand as he sunk back a bit into his dirtied coat. "I...She....There was a bite...Ashley....He had this gun. We..."

 

"Mister Ashpin?" Chris didn't answer. He instead rocked back and forth once more, shaking his head again and again as he fought back tears. "Mister Ashpin, it's okay. You don't need to answer th -"

 

The clip was cut and replaced by another interview. Elliot found himself shutting his laptop, grabbing his coffee, and standing to leave. He felt sick. Why had he come here? He wanted to forget he saw that - What was that all about? How had any of that stuff started? And, of all things, why did Christopher Ashpin claim he had been attacked by 'Wendigos'?

 

Elliot shook his head and exited the shop, turning and heading in the direction of his apartment. He made a mental note to forget what he saw on that TV, he hated how sick it made him feel and he didn't even know why it made him feel that way anyways. 

 

He told himself to forget it.

 

He forgot it soon enough.

 

Elliot Alderson continued his life. His life full of drugs and hacking, his life full of sex and social anxiety. He continued living for months after seeing that, months after forgetting.

 

He entered his apartment complex after work, quite drained and ready to forget his problems for a few blissful hours. He made his way up the stairs as he always did, passing doors and doors.

 

He didn't notice the one that was slightly open, the one next to his own.

 

The one that led into the room where a blonde-haired man lay sleeping on the bed, surrounded by unpacked boxes.

 

The one that led into the room where Christopher Ashpin slept. 

 

Elliot Alderson did forget about the story on the news that made him sick.

 

But he couldn't help but feel a sinking feeling in his chest that he was about to remember something unpleasant.


	3. Mediocrity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First impressions are everything.

It was too familiar, for the both of them. 

 

When Elliot had exited his apartment on a usual bleak morning (6:34 AM, 20 minutes earlier than he was used to waking up), he was half-asleep and not expecting to run into someone. 

 

Especially not someone who looked as familiar as this someone.

 

He couldn't put his finger on it, mouth parting slightly as he took in the view of the individual he just bumped into. The man had short blonde hair in a distinct lame fauxhawk, a large beakish nose on a long face and glasses resting neatly in front of bright, wide eyes. 

 

"Sorry." He finally muttered slowly, causing the supposed stranger to shift a bit awkwardly. You see, my dear reader, when Elliot Alderson had bumped into this stranger, the man had dropped a box of what looked like fragile objects. However, the man made no attempt to pick them up. He was staring just as intensely at Elliot as Elliot was at him. 

 

The look in his bright eyes was that of horror, shock, mild recognition. Elliot wondered if that was how he himself had looked as well.

 

"Um, i-it's okay. Ah, shit. Sorry, I shouldn't have just stood around like that, I was spacing out. Um - You live...in the other apartment?" The blonde man pointed towards Elliot's door as he bent over to pick up the spilled contents of the box he dropped. 

 

"...Yes." Elliot's mind rushed to figure out where he knew this man from. Maybe he just saw him in a crowd before. Maybe he'd seen him in a coffee shop or something. But, of course, crowds and coffee shops aren't what one would expect to be the cause of the sense of foreboding Elliot had. 

 

"Heh, thought so. Um - I'm Chris." The man - Chris - held up his free hand as he shoved broken parts of various shattered thises-and-thats into the box before him. "Christopher, technically, but Chris is what everyone calls me. Everyone except my mom, that is, but that's a different story." 

 

Elliot wasn't sure what Chris was getting at, but he took the other's hand in his and accepted the handshake a bit stiffly. 

 

"I'm...Elliot." He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, getting a bit frustrated at himself for not being able to remember this man. "H-Have we met? You...look familiar."

 

"I should say the same for you, but...no, I don't..." Elliot took note of the way Chris shifted uncomfortably, the way he avoided eye contact. "I don't think so."

 

The duo stood in awkward silence for what must have been a full minute before Elliot murmured another 'Sorry' and slipped past him to head down the hall and the stairs. He felt the need for a cigarette, or another bit of morphine. 

 

No, not this early in the morning. He hadn't even gone to work yet. 

 

He racked his mind some more for where he'd seen this Chris before. He thought about the fauxhawk, the glasses, the nose, the.....eyes. 

 

He really remembered those eyes.

 

A TV screen.

 

Coffee.

 

Christopher Ashpin.

 

That sinking sick feeling he hated returned to him like a punch in the stomach and he had to stiffen his posture to prevent from doubling over.

 

He remembered.


End file.
